Remy
I watch Tristan leave the bar, surprised to feel a pang of guilt in my chest.
I hate leading on the guy next to me—Chris, I eventually figured out—but I'm furious at Tristan for trying to order me around. Who the fuck does he think he is? I don't need his protection. I fight guys for fun, for God's sake. I’m not the kind of girl that needs to be coddled.
Still, I can't shake the twinge of guilt I feel for driving Tristan away because of my stupid game. I hate playing games. I should've just ignored him and left when I wanted to leave. But he made me so angry that I couldn't stop myself from trying to piss him off further. I don’t know if he thinks I'll sleep with this guy, but I seem to have convinced him enough to get him to abandon his alpha male efforts.
So now I'm left with a hopeful, clueless guy at the bar and an angry Tristan waiting for me at home.Fuck.
I briefly contemplate following Tristan home and giving up on my game entirely. But then I remember his face when he all but ordered me to go home with him, and I quickly wave that idea away.
Instead, I spend another twenty minutes politely chatting with Chris, making sure not to touch him anymore. Maybe if I wait long enough, Tristan will be asleep by the time I get home. Eventually, I turn to Lucy with pleading eyes. She hides her smile, knowing exactly what I'm silently begging her for.
"Remy, we should get going," she says, shooting Chris an apologetic glance. A slight frown crosses his face. "We have an early session at the gym tomorrow and it's getting kind of late."
"You're probably right," I agree. I turn toward Chris with a smile, trying to hide my guilt at leading him on as best I can. "It was nice to meet you. Thanks a lot for the drink." I stand up off the barstool.
Chris blocks my path, his body angled in front of me, and one arm braced on the bar. I'm not completely blocked in but he's definitely too close for comfort. My eyes widen in surprise.
"I'd love to see you again sometime," he says, pulling me in by my wrist. "Can I get your number?"
I lean back, trying to recapture some of my personal space. I'm shocked that Chris is bold enough to try something like this, since he was too nervous even to say anything to me before I initiated the conversation. This must be his Hail Mary.
Unfortunately, all it succeeds in doing is pissing me off.
"Sorry, no," I say firmly. "I don't think that's a good idea. But again, thank you for the drink." Without waiting for a response, I grab Lucy's hand and pull her out the door.
We stumble out to the street. "Jesus, you've got everyone fawning over you tonight," Lucy laughs. "Two strangers at the bar and now you've got Tristan waiting at home to spank you." Her grin is downright evil.
"Lucy!" I yell in horror. "Tristan isnotinterested in me! What would possess you to say something like that? Did you not see how much of an ass he was tonight?"
"Girl, all I saw was a very protective, very angry Tristan who did not want any guys anywhere near you tonight. That translates to being interested."
"He's just being protective because he knows Jax would kick his ass," I mumble.
Lucy chuckles and shakes her head. "You tell yourself whatever lie makes you feel better."
I glare at her as I wave down a taxi but give her a hug anyway. "Thanks for tonight," I say. "I'll see you at the gym in the morning."
"Yup, see you then. Have a good night." She aims one last mischievous grin my way before the taxi pulls away from the curb. I flash a less-than-ladylike gesture at the retreating car.
It takes me a minute to flag down my own taxi and less than ten minutes to pull up in front of the house. I gulp nervously as I get out of the car. It's been a while since Tristan left the bar so I'm really hoping he's already asleep.
He's not.
He's sitting on the couch flipping through the TV channels. He's wearing sweatpants and nothing else.
As in, he'sshirtless.
I almost fall over my feet as I walk into the house. I've seen him shirtless plenty of times at the gym—it’s undeniably sexy there, too—but there's something so much more erotic about seeing him lounging shirtless in the comfort of his own home. He's so fit from fighting that he doesn't even have to try for the eight pack, or for the V on his hips that drags my attention down...
"Look who decided to finally make the walk of shame," he taunts without looking away from the TV, effectively interrupting my very inappropriate and unhelpful train of thought.
I scowl and cross my arms. "Not that it's any of your business, but I did not fuck that guy.”
He chuckles. "Yeah, Remy, I know you. You're too much of a prude for a quick fuck in a bar bathroom."
Any guilt I feel for tricking Tristan tonight flies straight out the window. My control snaps.